


Falling

by greieve



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greieve/pseuds/greieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A police pursuit goes  wrong, leaving Gene seriously injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in the lifein1973 community, for Whump!Bingo under the prompt 'falling.'
> 
> Contains extremely mild Sam/Gene. Couldn't resist.

For once, they were actually agreeing. This case had gone on long enough, and both DCI Hunt and DI Tyler were ready to bring it to a [close](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2437087.html). For once, there was no arguing over evidence and gut feelings; just the same determination to get another piece of scum off the streets of Manchester.  
  
A file was slapped down on his desk, interrupting a report he was working on and making him smudge the last word he’d gotten down. With an exasperated sigh, Sam looked up into the face of Gene Hunt, who was leaning over his desk with both hands firmly gripping wooden surface.  
  
“John Roy,” he said, straightening himself to full height. “Wanted for two counts of domestic violence an’ under suspicion for a few local muggings.” Sam leaned back in his chair, flipping open the file and shifting through its contents.  
  
“’Ave we gotten any new leads?”  
  
“Yea’, some poor lackey’s dropped off a bit of information,” Gene explained. He sounded bored, but Sam could tell that his DCI was buzzing with the excitement of a new lead. “There ain’t much to go on, but for now is’ the best we got.”  
  
Sam nodded, prompting. “What’d ‘e give us?”  
  
“Turns out this bloke’s an old colleague o’ Roy’s; says ‘e’s been hangin’ around ‘is flat for the past couple a’ weeks, buggerin’ [money](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2437087.html) off ‘im and such. They ain’t never been close, so ‘e told Roy tuh scram. Last this guy heard, ‘is old pal’s plannin’ on gettin’ some cash and leavin’ ‘s fast ‘e can.”  
  
“Right, so we’re expectin’ a robbery of some sort, yeah?” offered Sam, chewing on the end of his pen. “That’ll be ‘is easiest method of the money.”  
  
“Yes, thank you Dorothy,” scoffed Gene, slamming his hands down on the desk again. “What I need from you is to ‘elp me gather a squad and set ‘em up around the city. As soon as this bastard makes a move, we’ll ‘ave ‘im cuffed an’ prepped for questioning ‘fore you can say ‘beer ‘O clock.’”  
  
Sam opened his mouth to reply, already halfway out of his seat to comply to the Guv’s orders, when Phyllis slammed open the door, cutting him off.  
  
“Guv,” she said, looking between the two men. “There’s been a robbery downtown.”  
  
“Shit!” exclaimed Gene, looking to Sam. “Looks like this operation’s startin’ off earlier than we expected.” He turned to Phyllis, pointing a finger in her direction. “I want a squad down there now. If it’s Roy, ‘e’ll be ‘eadin’ toward the city borders.” Phyllis nodded briskly, her heeled footsteps receding down the hall as she prepared to radio orders to nearby officers.  
  
Gene gestured toward the door with a swish of his head, and he and Sam were heading out the doors of CID, climbing into the Ford Cortina. On instinct, Sam had his seatbelt buckled before Gene was halfway in the [car](http://lifein1973.livejournal.com/2437087.html), left hand clenched tight on the safety handle. Gene only looked at him with a knowing smirk and a muttered ‘pansy’ before they were screeching down the streets, skidding around corners and hitting near every trash can as they went.  
  
“Alpha One to eight-seven-zero.” Phyllis’s voice filled the space of the Cortina as the radio crackled to life. Sam reached down to grab it, responding immediately and trying to keep his voice steady as the car lurched to the side.  
  
“Eight-seven-zero to Alpha One, we’re reading.”  
  
“Sam, the car’s been spotted right around your location. Suspect is driving a blue Ford with a banged-up boot.”  
  
“Got ‘im!” yelled Gene as the car took another fierce swerve to the right. Sam could see the vehicle in question behind a plume of exhaust, and he quickly relayed the information to Phyllis before holding on for dear life. They raced after the Ford, following it around a series of complicated bends before finally coming to a screeching halt in front of an abandoned factory building. The two were out of the car just in time to see one of the side doors swing shut, then took off after Roy. The sound of wailing sirens was in the air now as squad cars searched for their location.  
  
Once inside, Sam’s vision was consumed with darkness, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to his surroundings. Gene was already clomping up an old, rusted stairwell, yelling at Sam to go the other way and cut Roy off. Obliging, Sam took off in the opposite direction, finding another flight of stairs and taking them two at a time. The whole building seemed to shake unstably as footsteps echoed throughout the empty space, filled with Gene’s shouts as he continued to pursue Roy, who was no doubt faster on his feet than the Guv.  
  
 _‘Looks like I’ll be taking this one then,’_ thought Sam as he raced to the top of the building, already panting for breath. He turned a corner, then jumped half out of his skin when the sound of splintering wood and the screeching of metal-against-metal filled the air. Heart pounding, Sam turned toward the direction of the noise, breaking out into a full-on sprint.  
  
Sam skidded to a stop, and in a panic, took in the scene before him. Light from the multitude of holes in the roof glanced off flecks of dust in the air. There were piles of rubble from where the stairway had collapsed onto itself, and half the building had been taken with it. Sam stood, frozen in place and unable to move, a deathly silence surrounding him like a blanket. Then, in a split second, he was moving; rushing forward; searching frantically for any sign of life. He could still hear the sirens in the air – they had to be close by now. No doubt the collapse of a building would be a dead giveaway. Hopefully.  
  
It felt like forever until Sam came across a body. John Roy’s bloody limbs were bent at awkward angles, his body covered with rubble and debris. Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, Sam knelt down, feeling for a pulse. Unsurprisingly, he found no sign of life under the skin of the other man’s neck, which had also been twisted in a way that made his spine protrude grotesquely from his flesh.  
  
With a gasp, Sam stood and backed away from the body, panic steadily rising and making his heart pound faster than he thought possible. Gene was nowhere to be seen as he spun around, stepping over chunks of wreckage and bent metal as he continued the desperate search for his DCI. By now, his hands were cut up, covered in his own blood as he turned over scraps of metal and wood, brushing rock and asphalt out of the way, hoping more than anything to find Gene alive and well. After uncovering another pile of the building’s remains that looked large enough to house a body, Sam cried out in frustration when his efforts once more turned up fruitless.  
  
It took him a moment to recognize the sound of someone calling out weakly over the rush of blood in his ears, but as soon as he heard it properly, Sam was up and bolting to the spot. The relief of seeing Gene alive, if only barely, was overwhelming. He fell to his knees beside the other man, grabbing onto his hand and asking if he was okay. Much as he liked to think that his Guv was safe, the situation wasn’t looking too good. Most of Gene’s lower body was covered in bits of wood and metal, and a large piece of the stairwell was settled over his right leg, trapping it.  
  
“’Course I’m bloody okay,” Gene managed weakly, and Sam felt a little better at hearing the defiant tone to his voice. Sam smiled slightly, squeezing his Guv’s hand once before starting to brush away some of the rubble covering his torso. It really didn’t look too bad, Sam thought with some reprieve, picking off the rocks and pieces of wood. His hand brushed a thin bar of metal, and Gene suddenly cried out in agony.  
  
Panicked once more, Sam began clearing away the stuff around it, and was horrified to see that it was embedded within his DCI’s torso.  
It looked bad – really bad. Gene was bleeding out, his shirt and trousers soaked in blood from the wound. Sam swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel something warm and wet seeping into his own trousers where he was kneeling on the floor. Ripping off his jacket, Sam pressed it to the base of the metal, trying to stop the bleeding as best he could until someone arrived.  
  
“Gene,” he murmured, trying to comfort the other man, who looked dazed and ready to pass out. “Guv, it’s gonna be okay; you’re gonna be fine. The ambulance will be on its way; we’ll get you to hospital and fix you up, yeah?” Gene merely looked puzzled, blue eyes narrowing.  
  
“Tyler, what—" He looked down to where Sam was pressing his jacket into his gut, right above his waist. He couldn’t really feel anything, but then he saw the blood spreading over his shirt, steadily crawling up to his chest. A dull column of metal was pointing up from Sam’s hands at an awkward angle, and he briefly wondered if the other man was trying to stab him with it. Why didn’t he just throw it to the ground with the rest of the junk? And why did Sam look so worried? He couldn’t focus; thoughts were trying to form but kept slipping away. The world was blurry, and Sam’s words of comfort became a dull drone of noise in the back of his mind. The corners of his vision were going black; his head was pounding. He could distantly feel Sam’s hand covering his own, smoothing over his fingers like he was trying to warm them up. Why were they on the ground? He was cold. Why didn’t Sam get him a blanket or something? They should turn up the heating.  
  
In what felt like forever and an instant at the same time, the ground began to vibrate, and voices swam through the air like static. Gene opened his eyes, and all he could see were lights and shadows. When had he fallen asleep? Hands all over him, lifting him, moving him away; hopefully somewhere warm. The dull throb of pain in his body gradually turned to a sharp stabbing, mainly in his leg and gut. People were yelling, screaming. A variation of voices swum through his head; the deep-throated drawl of a man, the shrill squeak of a woman. God, why were they so bloody loud?  
  
He blinked, and he was in a room. A small room, with the walls closing in around him. He felt like the world was moving beneath him. Lying in a bed, he looked to the side, toward the feeling of someone holding his hand. When he turned his head, the grip tightened, and a familiar voice started murmuring to him. Sam was there beside him. He couldn’t make out the expression on the other man’s face – he looked sad. What had happened? Whatever it was, he hoped someone wasn’t dying. What a bloody nuisance that would be.  
  
 ** _XXX_**  
  
Gene opened his eyes. He was still in a bed, but this one was softer. He had a blanket, too. The walls were further away, making the room less cramped. There was something in his hand – a tube? Looked like one of those things from the hospital. He snuggled his head back with a sigh, relaxing into the soft pillow.  
  
“Gene?”  
  
A voice startled him – he hadn’t thought anyone was in here with him. Looking to the side, he made out the person beside him to be Sam. Sam moved, and he felt a pressure on his hand again. What was with him and holding Gene’s hand all the time? And why was he letting him do it? He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as he looked straight ahead, trying to come up with an explanation. Did something happen between him and Sam? Were they  _together?_  He suddenly felt dizzy. Maybe he should say something reassuring. That’s what couples did, right? He was starting to feel nervous.  
  
 _‘Man up,’_  he told himself. He squeezed Sam’s hand, just like Sam was doing to him. The whole room was spinning, and he felt like he was going to pass out. Wait – why was he even sleeping in the first place? Where was he? Maybe he and Sam ran away together. That’s why he didn’t recognize anything. He smiled.  
  
“Love you,” he murmured, and fell asleep.  
  
 ** _XXX_**  
  
When he awoke again, Sam was still there. Sam – he’d had the strangest dream about Sam. Something about running. And holding hands. He couldn’t remember.  
  
“What time is it?” he said, and Sam jumped, obviously not expecting him to be awake. He made a show of looking at his watch.  
  
“’Round lunchtime. How you feeling?” He ignored the question.  
  
“What the bloody hell happened?” Sam chuckled, but it was more relief than anything.  
  
“D’you remember John Roy?” he asked, and Gene hesitated.  
  
“What, that poncy git we’re after?” he said after a moment of thought. “Of course I bloody remember him! What’s it got to do with anything?”  
  
“Right.” Now it was Sam who hesitated. “Well, ‘e’s dead. Got killed when the factory collapsed.”  
  
“Factory?”  
  
“Yes, Guv. The abandoned factory we chased ‘im into,” he tried, hoping to bring up the memory. Gene squinted, narrowing his eyes in thought. He remembered little flashes – driving in the Cortina, chasing someone. And there was a bank robbery. Roy; John Roy. He was trying to leave country, robbed a bank and fled into a building.  _Oh._  The day started playing back in Gene’s mind, and he remembered chasing Roy into the factory, up the stairs. The man was almost in his grasp, and – that’s it. He couldn’t remember what happened after that. Then he remembered what Sam had said.  
  
“The factory collapsed?” Sam nodded.  
  
“The stairwell gave out, and you both fell. Roy was thrown around like a rag doll, broke nearly every bone in his body. You, on the other hand,” he poked Gene. “Came out with a shattered shinbone and an iron bar stabbed straight through your body.”  
“I  _what?_ ”  
  
“Yep.” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “The doctors said it weren’t nothing less than a miracle that you survived. Damn thing missed every major organ in your body, ‘cept a little puncture in your large intestine.” Gene was speechless.  
  
“So,” he said after a minute. “Roy’s dead then?” Sam nodded again. They sat there in slightly awkward silence, until Sam spoke up again.  
  
“Oh,” he said, as if suddenly remembering something. “A few days ago you told me you loved me.” Gene suddenly stilled. Oh, fuck. He hoped that was the only thing he “dreampt” about that had actually happened. The rest would be a bit difficult to explain to his missus…  
  
“Er… Musta been the morphine,” he said, trying to wave it off. Sam shrugged, then glanced at his watch again.  
  
“I gotta get goin’, Guv. Lunch break’s about over. Just came to see ‘ow you were doing.”  
  
Gene looked after Sam, watching him leave, admiring his lithe form. He suddenly caught himself staring, and shook himself. Bloody hell.


End file.
